


skin under dirt

by heisttheblackflag (EuterpesChild)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: BM Vagabond, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA V AU, Gen, Jeremy-centric, Lil J, M/M, Mogar, Origin Story, Slow Burn, criminals au, gta v - Freeform, jeremichael, possible eventual ot6, team short temper, wrestler jeremy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuterpesChild/pseuds/heisttheblackflag
Summary: Jeremy never planned on being anything other than a wrestler. Even once he'd accepted becoming a criminal, he'd never expected Michael Jones. It's safe to say no one expected him, either.





	1. The Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever posted a multi-chapter work without having the entire thing written beforehand, so please lend me your patience.  
> For the same reasons, I have no idea if this will actually become full-fledged OT6 or whether it will remain implied, but Jeremichael will absolutely be realised. ...eventually.

     The sweaty crowd packed into the concrete underground room roared and his chest swelled. He didn’t care if they were cheering for him to win or lose, just that they were there for him.  
     The announcer, such as he was, projected his increasingly strained tenor voice over the noise of the crowd.  
     “And that’s all for Richie “The Spider”! To Big Dave go the spoils. And now for the next bout you’ve all been waiting for: Andrej versus our relative newcomer, Little J!”  
     Jeremy strode into the center of the ring of people and beat his fists on his wifebeater-covered chest before raising them in the air and roaring back at the assembled crowd. After turning in a triumphant circle, he finally turned to face his opponent. He’d seen Andrej around, had even faced him briefly in a tag-team battle in another ring, but this was the first time they would fight properly head-to-head. Jeremy took a moment to inhale deeply and size him up. Andrej was easily a foot taller and almost half again as wide as he was. Andrej was all bulging corded muscle and arrogance behind a black A-shirt and carpenter jeans Jeremy wondered how he could wrestle in. Jeremy knew that at 5’4” he was expected to lose, even with his track record, but this was his first proper high-stakes match in the underground wrestling circuit and he fully intended to show up and show out and prove unequivocally that he deserved to be here. The announcer/MC/referee stepped between them in the ring, one hand raised high. Whatever he said next was lost in the sound of blood rushing through Jeremy’s ears, but as soon as the hand dropped and the man stepped back Jeremy lunged.  
     After the fact, Jeremy remembered every detail with perfect clarity and remembered nothing of the fight at all. He knew from taking stock after the match that Andrej had gotten a dirty elbow jab into his eye, and that at some point Jeremy’s sternum and Andrej’s knee had made painful contact, but the finer details of who had held who and how were lost in the sweat and dirt of the floor of the makeshift wrestling ring. Jeremy only realised he’d won when a hand lifted him by the back of his wifebeater and he found handfuls of cash being shoved at him once he’d wiped grimy sweat out of his eyes. Winning was exhilarating, and Jeremy screamed out the last of his adrenaline along with the howling crowd.

     Jeremy had always loved wrestling, had even won prizes for it in high school, so it really came as no surprise that when he went looking for work in not-strictly-legal arenas he ended up in the web of underground wrestling. Just over three months after his escape from South Boston came his win over Andrej, and that marked the beginning of making a name for himself. After all, people took notice of a good fighter, and bigger criminals than underground wrestling ring leaders took an especial interest.  
     Jeremy began building his reputation, and with every win he also began stockpiling cash. Four months after defeating Andrej, he moved out of the trash heap that was his one-room apartment and into a proper living space with a closet and a shower. Liberty City wasn’t the nicest place no matter what part of the city you lived in, but Jeremy decided to make the most of what was shaping up to be his new home. He started exploring the city during the day, not just sleeping off injuries from the night before. Not that he was no longer getting injured, but as one of the bigger-name fighters he no longer had to fight upwards of five matches a night just to be able to buy food the next day. Now he could go a couple rounds at 1am and still be in good enough shape to wander the pavement the next day. This was not aimless wandering either: Jeremy was on the hunt for a day job.

     Jeremy was facing off against Big Dave. The two had struck up a- well, it wasn’t quite a friendship, but at the very least they no longer actively hated each other outside the ring. They had even scarfed down hot dogs at the same diner counter with nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement between them. They exchanged tiny nods now as Drew, the announcer with the overworked voice, announced their fight and stepped back. Jeremy and Dave lunged and grappled in a bout that wasn’t exactly boring but which no longer had the same sense of danger and adrenaline as his first fights had. All his matches had started to take on a feeling of rhythmic familiarity, and as he thought about this with concern, he caught sight of someone at the edge of the crowd who made him lose his guard enough for Dave to grab his leg and pin him to the ground. Their match ended quickly despite Jeremy’s efforts to bring himself back, and as Drew announced Dave’s victory, Jeremy saw the curly-haired stranger who had lost him the match curl his lip and turn away.  
     Jeremy found his shirt and made his way upstairs in a daze. The light-polluted 2am sky was a perfect reflection of how he felt trying to figure out why a perfect stranger had thrown him so entirely off his stride. He was so distracted he nearly walked smack into the back of the man occupying his thoughts, only barely managing to stop himself from going head-first into the man’s torso. His vision was full of reddish-brown curls, ferocious brown eyes, and a startlingly sturdy chest Jeremy was just over eye-level with. The man, who couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than himself, eyed him obviously up and down before speaking.  
     “You’re Little J?”  
      Jeremy nodded, struck by how high and young he sounded behind the anger and bravado. The man stuck out a hand which Jeremy shook, suddenly conscious of how sticky with dirt his palms were.  
     “Mogar. I work for Geoff Ramsey. I assume you know who that is.”  
     Jeremy nodded again. His daytime prowls, while not successful in landing him a day job, had informed him of the names and specialties of all the major criminals in the city. Geoff Ramsey was one of the most known names with the least known habits. He had been seen running with a few different people, but none of them were ever identified, and no one could agree on just how many others there were. To actually meet one of Geoff’s crew was almost unheard of, and Jeremy was awestruck.  
     Mogar paused, and squinted at him. “Do you know why I’m here?”  
     “Since you asked, I’m guessing it wasn’t just to watch me wrestle?” Jeremy cleared his throat nervously, wondering why his voice sounded full of the grit they were standing on.  
     Mogar let out a single laugh that sounded more like a bark. “Geoff sent me to scout you out. We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”  
     “Oh? What have you heard?”  
     “That there’s been a little man asking a lot of questions. And that you’re a damn good fighter.”  
     Jeremy wasn’t sure whether to be proud or offended. Before he could choose, however, Mogar grinned and put his fists up in a defensive stance.  
     “Let’s see what you got, huh?”  
     Jeremy looked around at the empty parking lot. “What? Right now?”  
     “Why not?” Mogar beckoned one hand invitingly. “I’ve seen you wrestle in a ring, but what are you like hand-to-hand?”  
     Jeremy shrugged before mirroring his grin and stance. “I guess we’ll see.”  
     The two men bounced on the balls of their feet, sizing each other up and waiting to see who would strike first. It quickly became clear that Mogar wanted Jeremy to move first, wanted to see how he would do. Jeremy obliged, first with a test jab, then with a right hook that would have struck Mogar square in the jaw had he not blocked it with an open palm.  
     He laughed. “Not bad, Little J! What else you got?”  
     Jeremy opened up a barrage of blows, remembering the hours of boxing practice his dad had put him through. He’d complained at the time, planning only to become a wrestler, but the training had paid off far more often than he liked to admit. Mogar dodged most of Jeremy’s strikes and countered a few others, but a wicked uppercut finally caught him just under the ribs and Mogar doubled over, holding up one hand.  
     “Alright, you got me,” he panted. Straightening after a moment, he held out his right hand for Jeremy to shake. “Not bad, kid. Welcome aboard.”  
     Jeremy shook his hand, confused. “What?”  
     “That was your audition,” Mogar explained, clearing up absolutely nothing. “Welcome to the crew.”


	2. The Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy wonders just exactly what kind of crew he's gotten himself into, Ryan wonders who this new kid is, and Michael wonders about nothing at all.

Jeremy followed him down the deserted street, still utterly bewildered as to what was going on. Mogar was leading him towards one of the more residential areas downtown, which only served to confuse him further. He would’ve expected an office building or a warehouse if Mogar was going to take him somewhere for crew business. He wasn’t even sure why Mogar was taking him anywhere: after welcoming him to the crew he was now apparently part of, Mogar had said “come on” before just turning and walking away, apparently expecting Jeremy to follow along. Which he had, of course. He had been trying for months to find someone to work for, and now one of the biggest names in the city’s underworld had scouted him? He would’ve had to be the biggest idiot known to man to turn that down. Not that he was going fully mercenary: no, Geoff Ramsey had a track record of few to none unnecessary casualties, and the few hired guns that had worked with him on bigger jobs said the he was firm but fair and treated them well. Jeremy wasn’t interested in abusers of power. That being said, Jeremy had never heard of anyone joining or even leaving Ramsey’s crew, and neither had anyone he’d spoken to. He suddenly wondered if Mogar was lying to him. As if sensing Jeremy beginning to construct escape plans in case he tried to kill him, Mogar turned to him and grinned, baring his canines a little too much for comfort.

“We’re here!” he announced cheerfully, and added over his shoulder as he unlocked the grey door of a fairly unassuming house, “I promise I won’t kill you tonight.”

Jeremy felt entirely un-reassured by this statement, but followed Mogar inside anyway. He’d never been one to shy away from danger. That’s how he’d ended up in Liberty City, after all.

As Mogar pushed into the house, leaving Jeremy to close and lock the door behind them, he called out loudly, “I got him, boys!”

Jeremy followed him through the dim, unlit hallway, unsure what to expect. What he found waiting for him was completely unlike anything he would have expected a notorious criminal’s base to look. The house was narrow, and Jeremy guessed it had three above-ground floors based on the exterior. The lower floor they entered had an open-plan living room and kitchen, with a couch and set of armchairs opposite a kitchen island-turned-dining table and a wall full of cabinets. A tall, heavyset figure turned from the refrigerator as they entered, a slimmer figure with impressive facial hair and tattoos emerged from what Jeremy assumed was the stairwell on the other side of the living room, and he noticed with a start that one of the armchairs was occupied by a man in slightly sweaty skull-patterned face paint curled up calmly reading a book. As Jeremy stepped fully into the room, he realised there was a fourth person who was now unfolding himself and hopping down from one of the granite countertops before leaning on the island with interest. The man in the armchair put his book down on a table beside him, but did not unfold his legs from the chair, which was frankly more intimidating than his face paint.

“And who is this, exactly?” the man said.

“Come on, I told you guys I was scouting him out today.” Mogar sounded far too petulant for an adult criminal.

The man with the moustache continued to approach them. “And you’re sure he’s someone I want in my crew?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Jeremy blanched. This had to be the infamous Geoff Ramsey, and he sounded very unhappy that Jeremy was there. This was not an ideal first impression.

“I’m Jeremy, sir,” he said, extending a hand and hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. He took a very cautious step forward. “I’m honored to be invited here, and I’m hoping I’m not unwelcome…?” There was a hint of a question at the end of his statement, and he risked a half-glance at Mogar to see if he’d made the right move, but nothing about the other man’s stance or expression gave him any clue as to how much trouble he’d potentially gotten himself into.

There was a weighty pause in the room, Jeremy’s hand still outstretched and no one making a move.

The silence only broke when Ramsey broke into a grin and strode forward to take Jeremy’s hand, clapping his other hand firmly down onto Jeremy’s shoulder.

“I had wondered what kind of person Mi- Mogar was scouting out for us, but you seem like a good kid, so let’s see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into.”

The man in the chair remained impassive, but the other two men moved out from the kitchen, following Ramsey’s lead. The man from in front of the refrigerator, who Jeremy now saw had a very impressive beard, introduced himself as Jack, and clasped Jeremy’s hand in both of his own when they shook. The other man, who Jeremy was pleased to see was shorter than everyone else in the room except himself, glanced around at Jack and Ramsey before speaking.

“Are we doing proper names then? Right, I’m Gavin, though I’m known as the Golden Boy in certain circles.” His voice had a very pronounced English accent, and both his nose and his grip were bird-like.

The man in the chair did not move, but he did lift his chin in acknowledgement to Jeremy, and drawled, “I’m sure as hell not giving my real name, but it’ll sure be interesting having you around.”

Gavin and Ramsey both shot him looks, but only Ramsey spoke, turning back to Jeremy to say, “You’ll have to forgive him; he thinks being The Vagabond gives him the right to be ominous in our house.”

Jeremy went white. He’d never heard much of Mogar or the Golden Boy, and certainly never heard of Jack, but he had most definitely heard of the Vagabond, and he didn’t like what it said about Ramsey that he had the Vagabond as one of his main crew. Though—

“Sorry, did you say- your house?”

Ramsey quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Yeah, our house. As in, the house we all live in.”

“You share a house? All five of you?”

“It certainly makes rent easier,” Jack chimed in. “Plus, saves us needing to find a central meeting place to make plans in, and we don’t have to traipse around the city finding everyone in order to get everything done.”

Jeremy couldn’t argue with any of that, even if he desperately wanted to know more. He settled for returning his focus to Ramsey.

“So what do I call you, then? And what exactly am I doing here?”

Ramsey grinned, the curly ends of his moustache rising almost past his cheekbones. “You can call me Geoff if you want, or Ramsey if it suits your sensibilities better, just so long as you don’t call me anything offensive. And as for what you’re doing here, why don’t we let our Mi- Mogar fill you in?”

All eyes turned to Mogar, who rolled his own. “You’re never gonna remember anyways, so I may as well tell you that my name’s Michael, and as long as you don’t say that where anyone we don’t like can hear you, you can call me it all you like. And you’re here for- let’s call it an audition. Try-out, whatever. We know you want in to our crew, we could use some extra muscle, so let’s try it out and see what happens. How does that sound?”

“It sounds, uh… It sounds great!” Jeremy wasn’t sure whether it was fear or excitement that made his voice crack, but either way he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’d like that, thank you. What did you have in mind?”

The grin Michael turned on him was filled with fire and mischief, and Jeremy was pretty sure he loved it.

 

They eventually all gathered around in the living room, Gavin perched on one end of the couch, Jack sitting on the other, and Michael sprawled in the middle. Geoff took the unoccupied armchair after instructing Jeremy to drag in a chair from the kitchen, and the Vagabond remained exactly where he had been since Jeremy and Michael had first walked in. There had been minimal conversation while this had happened, mainly Gavin and Michael taking jabs at each other in what Jeremy hoped was a friendly manner. Word was that Ramsey’s crew was a tight-knit group, and Jeremy sincerely hoped this was indeed the case.

Once everyone had settled into their respective seats, Ramsey clapped his hands to bring attention back to himself. “Alright, idiots,” he declared. “Let’s show Li’l J what it is we’re about.”

Jack, Gavin, and Michael immediately started talking over each other, Jack throwing out ideas for team-bonding exercises, Gavin suggesting the most ludicrous heist ideas Jeremy would never have imagined, and Michael claiming his right to have his idea chosen “because I don’t know if you notice, _Free_ , but I’m the one who found him so I should be the one to initiate him!” Geoff did his best to stop them all, but it wasn’t until the Vagabond yelled at the top of his lungs for everyone to shut up that there was any semblance of order. Even then, Gavin continued to mutter threats and ideas under his breath for which Michael poked him repeatedly until Geoff glared at them and they stopped.

“The way I see it, we have two options,” Geoff said when there was finally quiet again. “Either we take a super simple smash and grab job and see how Jeremy does with it, or we ask him to plan a job as a test of his skill and we see how it goes. Thoughts? R- Vagabond?”

The Vagabond sighed and rubbed his forehead, smearing his already-smudgy face paint even further. Jeremy caught a glimpse of pale skin under the white of the skull design. “If we have to test him, I say we take him with us to see how he works with us as a group. I don’t want him to take us on a job of his because, no offense kid, but we’ve never heard of you, so we have no idea if you’re even any good at anything besides fighting.”

Jeremy sat forward on his chair, bristling, but Ramsey held up a hand before he could say anything.

“Not the way I’d’ve phrased it, but a fair point. What else do you have, Li’l J? Besides fighting, cuz Michael says you’re good at that and I trust Michael.”

Jeremy paused, thinking. He’d mostly been muscle back in South Boston, but… “I’m a good driver, I have experience in trucks and driving stick; I’m good at being quiet and at talking my way out of things; I have some experience making bombs; and I know how to shoot a gun.”

Michael looked approvingly at his homemade bomb experience, and Jack and Geoff exchanged a meaningful glance when he said he could talk his way out of a situation.

“That sounds like a good enough setup for Bolen’s job next week,” Jack said, looking at Geoff. “Driving, negotiation, backup muscle?”

“Hey, I thought I was backup muscle!” Michael protested.

“Boi, have you been working out, boi?” Gavin grinned and began squeezing Michael’s bicep.

“We could always use extra backup muscle,” Jack said over Michael’s protests and the beginnings of another squabble between him and Gavin.

“And Bolen won’t mind us bringing in a new hand, this job is just a little thing he’s handing off to us for now. What do you think?” Geoff turned to the Vagabond, who simply raised a black leather-clad shoulder.

“Sounds like fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lengthy setup is lengthy and I'm not used to writing anything longer than a one-shot so please bear with me folks :')

**Author's Note:**

> standard disclaimer that I write these fics based on the personae presented in the GTA V let's plays, and do not intend them as a representation or portrayal of the real people who play them. this is just a great way to explore writing gay criminals, and I want to make sure the people and characters are all treated with respect. <3


End file.
